Ginny's Notebook
by Days Like This
Summary: Harry finds a notebook. It's Ginny's and it opens up a whole new perspective. Maybe she's more than what he thinks she is. **Ginny's rant in Chapter 4 revised; its so much better now.**
1. No, come on, tell us what you really thi...

"He's here. He's in our house, in the kitchen, talking with Ron. Every time he comes I think the same thing, that there is no way he's in the same house as I am. I supposed it's because he's always so close, physically, but so far away, mentally. At school, we work in almost two completely different circles, no matter how much I wish that weren't true. It's not fair, this horrible distance. Nothing's fair.  
  
It's not fair that I love him. It's not fair that not a day goes by that I don't love him more. It's not fair that he's so important to me- he's the most important person to me. It's not fair that he has no idea, or if he does, he doesn't care. The fact that I care so much for him, and he doesn't notice is humiliating, embarrassing, infuriating, maddening, terrifying.  
  
It's not fair that sometimes I'm glad he doesn't see me, because I think that he might not like what he sees. I know that I'll never be beautiful; the best I can hope for is cute. But somewhere along the line, it became a relief that he'll never be attracted to me because of my looks, in case he's repulsed by my personality. If he was, I couldn't say "Oh, he just doesn't know me, he's only looking for someone pretty enough," because he would hate me for me. Does that make any sense? I suppose I've made a comfortable spot for myself. I can bask in my love for him, without having to worry about what he thinks of me, simply because he doesn't think of me.  
  
I like to imagine that if he would open up to me, I could help him. I dream that he'd be searching for comfort and I could give it to him and know what he's thinking and feeling. But I know, really, that I could never give him what he deserves. It's useless, all those images I play in my mind before I go to sleep at night. It's like a Muggle movie, or something, only we're the actors and I'm writing it in my head. Each night I change the scene, or the dialogue, or the setting. My favorite, actually, is the one where I come down to the kitchen in the middle of the night, ready to make a some hot coco, when I find the light already on and, low and behold, there's Harry, looking quite upset, waiting for someone to listen to all his problems and give him the comfort and peace that only I can. If that wasn't so sad, I'd laugh. I usually do laugh at things like this, but it's just so depressing, I can't manage even a smile.  
  
I always wonder what the right thing to say is... How does one go about telling the boy of their dreams that he is just that, that boy of their dreams? But he's so much more than that... He's someone I want to love, and help, and care for, forever. I want to be his someone, I want him to know. But-"  
  
  
  
Harry frowned at the notebook he was reading as the words ended. It looked as though there should be more, but he felt that what was written was more than enough. He didn't know whether she did it consciously or not, but Ginny had left her- well, it certainly seemed like a dairy, even though it was in a school-like notebook- on the porch where she had spent the afternoon, away from the rest. He hadn't meant to pry, or read it at all, for that matter, but he wanted to know just what kept the girl so interested that she seemed to have missed his arrival. Apparently, that was not the case, however.  
  
Something had to be done about this, Harry was sure. But just what had to be done, he hadn't the faintest idea.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Tell me what you think please. I'm just getting a feel for writing, playing around, finding my pace and everything. I love constrictive criticism; I handle it very well. You see something wrong, stupid, idiotic? Tell me. Don't like it? Tell me, and tell me why. 


	2. Contemplation. Realization. Resolution.

I forgot the disclaimer in the first chapter. (Let's think of it as more of a prologue or introduction, shall we?) Ahem. None of this is mine. I don't pretend that it is. There.  
  
This is dedicated to Julie, without whom, I'd be fanfictionless. And I wouldn't even know I was fanfictionless, because I wouldn't have her to point that out to me. Cocoa.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The next morning, Harry was rather quite at breakfast. Ginny's notebook was still on his mind. He had flipped through it, unable to put it down and staying up practically the whole night reading it. Over and over, the entries replayed themselves in his head. They were all over the place, going through every emotion possible.  
  
Some were normal diary entries he would expect, all about school and her friends, and just… very normal things. But some were so different. She wrote a lot about love, a lot about hope, a lot about her dreams of growing up.  
  
"I had the most wonderful dream last night," She wrote once somewhere around last year. "In it, I was grown up, and married (I don't know if I was married to Harry or not)," Harry was rather unnerved by that little aside, "and had a family. It was lovely. I had two little girls. Can you imagine? That must be heaven, to have a family like that, all your own. I want a beautiful family with a beautiful home." Well, there was one thing she and Harry had in common. He had often thought the same thing himself.  
  
"After the dream," she had continued to write, "I started to think more about my future. What do I want to be when I grow up? I tried to find what I could see myself doing for the rest of my life. I couldn't decide. I only ended up in ruling out what I know I don't want to be. They are as follows: Auror. (I'm sorry, but I'd be terrible at it.) That's it, the only thing on my list that I don't want to be. How am I ever going to decide?"  
  
  
  
She might not have decided what it was she wanted yet, but she certainly knew what her options were. There were pages and pages of possibilities. It seemed that she took each little detail, every decision, and wrote about what her life might be like if she were to choose that path. Everything was so thought out and envisioned; Harry couldn't imagine how anyone could have the time or the patience to do that. If all else failed, she could be a writer at least. That much was proven.  
  
She had also written about Tom Riddle. Her opinion on the Chamber of Secrets event was not quite what Harry expected it to be… not that he had ever thought about her opinion on it before.  
  
"For a time in my life, Tom was the one person I thought I could connect to," she wrote.  
  
"In all honesty, I think I wanted to help Tom- reach out to him. He reminded me of Harry, so very alone in the world. The difference was, I thought I could help Tom. I knew, even then, that I could never help Harry. So I settled for Tom.  
  
"He was my friend, my confidant. He was great. But, oh yeah, he was evil. Slight problem, he possessed me. That wasn't so great. But I was young; I was foolish.  
  
"Sometimes I still have nightmares where he mocks me. It's terrifying. It took me 2 whole years to get over what happened. I'm just barely better. What scared me the most was the thought that I hurt someone, could have killed a person even. But I'll always remember and learn from it. That's how I get along in life, I learn from every mistake. (Including that Valentine in 1st year. I think I might me more scared form that than Tom.)"  
  
Harry thought she was remarkably calm with the whole situation. Though she did admit that she was scared of what happened, and it had made a definite mark on her, her tone was very matter-of-fact. But that was written not too long ago; her thoughts probably weren't always so clear and cool. He was also amazed that she would ever keep a journal or diary again, after what happened. But she explained:  
  
"I've always written down what I thought. I think not ever writing again, like I first intend to, would have hurt me more in the long run. But you have gotten me through everything, dear notebook. (Not diary- never diary.) Funny how the thing that got me in such trouble was the thing that saved me as well. Writing. Oh well, if it works, it works. Plus, what are the chances of something like what happened happening again, especially in a Muggle notebook? "  
  
  
  
It did make sense. It had even made Harry wonder how much it might help if he kept his own record, like hers. It certainly helped her keep her thoughts in order, and Harry's own were starting to scatter everywhere.  
  
There were also a lot of little things, not of much consequence, that stood out to Harry. Things like the fact that Charlie was her favorite brother, though she shared the most with Ron. Or her favorite color was red, and she always resented the fact that she couldn't wear it because of her hair. Or even that her favorite subject was charms and she was top of her year in that class.  
  
She was certain Ron and Hermione liked each other (not that Harry didn't also) and had forced Ron to owl Hermione at the beginning of the summer, telling her how he felt. Hermione had even responded confirming that she did, indeed, feel the same way. That little detail was something neither one had told Harry. He should have been angry, but honestly, he was more amused than anything else, as was Ginny.  
  
"I'm so glad they finally 'fessed up. Everyone knows they like each other, so I don't see why it was so difficult for them to admit it. (Not that I should talk.) But you should have seen Ron's face when he got her owl. I've never seen it that red, even that time when Fred and George… ok, I won't tell which time, because I swore I would never even think of it again, so I suppose writing it down is right out. (I'm laughing so hard I can barely write.)" It was true that the words were slightly smudged and uneven here.  
  
"But the point is, that Hermione also owled me and told me everything she told Ron (and some things she didn't) and thanked me for getting him to write her. I don't know how she knew it was me, but she did and I wrote back to her and, next thing you know, we're corresponding. She's really sweet; I never knew her very well before, but now I'm getting to."  
  
So Ginny and Hermione were friends, now. That was good. Maybe Harry would be able to get to know Ginny better, too; she didn't seem all that bad. In fact, if he forgot everything she wrote about him, she was pretty cool. If he just ignored it, it was sure to go away, and then they could become friends. So that was what he decided to do; he would ignore it.  
  
"Hi Ginny." Harry looked up upon hearing Ron's voice to see Ginny enter the kitchen, yawning and nodding her head. Looking back down at his plate, he realized that the whole while he had been thinking, he had reduced his food to mush with his fork, and had hardly eaten a bite. Giving up, he stood and took his plate to the sink. He was about to leave and go back up to Ron's room, when Ginny spoke and made him stop in his tracks.  
  
"By the way, I can't find my notebook," she said. "If anyone sees it, can you let me know?"  
  
"Yeah, sure," Ron answered not paying much attention. Harry could only turn around slightly and nod, not quite able to meet Ginny's eyes. His stomach was doing the most awful thing- it felt like it was made of lead and squeezing convulsively. She smiled at him and turned away to get a glass of pumpkin juice; he took the opportunity to bolt out of the kitchen and up the many stairs, not stopping until he stood outside Ron's door. His heart was pounding and his breath was coming in short gasps.  
  
In the kitchen, Harry had realized something. He hadn't thought about giving Ginny back her notebook. It had of course been his original intention to just give her the book, without peeking inside, but it hadn't quite worked out that way. The fact was he had looked inside and he hadn't given it back.  
  
Harry sighed and opened the door, stepping inside. It closed behind him as he made his way over to the bed that was his, between Ron's and the window. He lifted the pillow and pulled out the notebook. For a moment, he just held it, only looking at it.  
  
Ginny had decorated the light green cover in stickers (on the first page she wrote about getting them from a Muggle store in town) and charmed it to have words and phrases flash on it. In the very middle "Ginny" was written in large, cursive letters with blue ink. She had little sayings on it, too; he had no idea what they meant or where they were from, but they must have held some meaning for her. "Just a lucky so-and-so?" "Dream a little dream of me?" "Moon River?" "One for my baby?" What were these things? The only thing that made any sense was "Precocious." That she certainly was.  
  
His fingers ran along the spine of the book; it was creased from being open and written in so much. How was he ever going to get this back to her? He couldn't just hand it over and say, "I read some of it, hope you don't mind. Interesting stuff actually. Everything about me- beautiful, that. A little off, but beautiful." Harry sighed.  
  
After much deliberation, Harry had decided that he would find a time during the day to sneak it into her room. She'd never know he had ever had it- perfect.  
  
  
  
I wasn't sure if I should stop there or not, but I'm impatient, so I will.  
  
Infinite thanks to everyone who reviewed. They are as follows (so far):  
  
MoonBunni, Howler the H/G shipper, Genesis (I'm sorry hun, but I don't understand what you mean about chapter 13. Could you explain what that was all about?), KnightMaria, ShellyK (Most people have felt that way, it's easy to relate to. That's why Gin's my favorite.), bucky, Beccy (All your fics were in German so I could read any. I'm so sorry.), Trunks Admirer, and Julie (bestest person ever!)  
  
One more thing- the British have some different spellings than we do (duh), and as HP is British, I decide to just stick with American spellings. I'd feel so pretentious otherwise. 


	3. Sibling Love, More Than Friends, Not Qui...

Just as Harry had made his decision and put the notebook back under his pillow, Ron entered. Perfect timing, Harry thought.  
  
"Poor Gin," Ron said. "She's looking everywhere for her notebook. I don't think she's been a day without it since she's gotten it. It's actually notebook #5. She goes through those things like most people go through shoes. I mean, you wouldn't think she'd ever want to keep a thing like that after-" Ron stopped, realizing he was talking to Harry, who was staring out the window and didn't seem to be listening, and that Ginny would probably kill him if she ever found out. He shouldn't talk about her like that; he owed it to her after she promised never to so much as think about that time Fred and George had… well, he didn't want to think about that either.  
  
"She likes writing," Harry answered before he knew what he was doing. Ron looked at him in surprise. That wasn't what he was expecting. But Harry kept talking, though it seemed like more to himself than to Ron. "It helps her sort things out. You know, see them objectively." Harry turned round to look at Ron. "Have you ever tried to do that? Tried writing everything you thought down?"  
  
"No, not really," Ron answered. Just what was Harry getting on about? "For some people it works, for some it doesn't. But Gin's always been one of those people who can do that. Did I ever tell you that when we were little, she'd rewrite fairy tales when she didn't like the ending?" Harry shook his head and Ron continued- this had always been one of his favorite things about Ginny, and despite everything, he loved bragging about her every once in a while.  
  
"When she was about 7 or 8, she had this book that was full of Muggle fairy tales a friend had given her. She loved it, I mean, she read that thing to death. So anyway, she decides one day that she doesn't like Cinderella, which was odd, because we all thought it was her favorite story- she even made us all call her Cinderella for a whole week, wouldn't answer to Ginny anymore, wore a tiara constantly, that sort of thing. Then out of the blue, she comes down with about 3 rolls of parchment or something, all covered in her huge writing. They were messy and blotted and generally eligible, but she poured them on the table, right on top of the newspaper Dad was reading and said, 'No Daddy, that's boring. Read this, it's better.' Turns out, she had completely rewritten Cinderella and made it the way she thought it really ought to be. Well, none of us could read it, and at the time I thought it was stupid anyway, but she read it to us- still don't know how she knew what it said."  
  
"What was her version like?" Harry asked.  
  
"Well, you know the original story, about the glass slipper and all?" Harry nodded again. "In her version, Cinderella won't be her stepsister's slave anymore and leaves. I think she gets a job or something. And when her Godmother tells her midnight, Cinderella starts bargaining for a later time. Ginny used to do that all the time, not argue so much as bargain. And when Cinderella has to leave, instead of running home, she just runs out the door and waits outside for the Prince to follow her, because she thought it was stupid for Cinderella to have to wait all that while and go through with the slipper if the Prince really loved her. And he does follow her of course and they live happily ever after."  
  
"Is that it?"  
  
"Oh no, there's tons more," Ron said, "but that's all of it I can remember. She did the same thing then with Sleeping Beauty and Snow White I'm pretty sure. Mum kept them all. They're somewhere up in the attic, I think. Honestly though, everyone was so impressed that she did that. Except me, I knew she could do something like that."  
  
"Like what?" Harry was beginning to wish he had a little sister. It must be nice to be able to brag like that, be so proud of her. Ron was certainly enjoying it.  
  
"Ginny's always been really special," Ron explained. "She's going to become famous or something. She could be an actress, you know, or even a singer. But aside from all that, I mean," he paused, thinking for a minute.  
  
"She's really supportive. She's a lot like Mum in that way. Gin was always the one who was there for any of us when we were upset or anything. Even Bill- once when she was about 3 he was upset over a girl or something and shut himself in his room, and she went in there and crawled up in his lap and told him not to be upset and just stayed with him. She can't stand to see anyone in pain or anything. Mum told me about that once; I was only 4 or something, I don't remember it but, well… The thing is, you know how sometimes I get kind of angry that I have 5 older brothers, and I feel that I have to live up to them? Well, Gin's never like that, never jealous or mean. She's usually the one I go to when I'm upset or something, always there to calm me down; she's always there to tell me the I'm special in my own right and everything, not matter how corny that sounds. She really is the best sister." Ron had long ago stopped talking to Harry and was now just thinking aloud. "Maybe I haven't told her that enough," he muttered.  
  
Harry was incredibly jealous. It must have been nice to have someone like that. He didn't have anyone to tell him he was wonderful, or calm him down when he was angry, or to be protective of. He stopped suddenly. He didn't have someone…  
  
"... He's someone I want to love, and help, and care for, forever. I want to be his someone; I want him to know."  
  
She had written it. It was one of the first things he had read. He suddenly realized that if he really wanted it, Ginny could be that someone. It was his for the taking, if he were to choose so. There was a sense of power there. But just as soon as it came, it was gone, and he was left with a horrible sense of guilt. How could he ever, even for a split-second, thing of taking advantage of her like that?  
  
Besides, if he wanted a little sister, Ginny could never be it. He doubted the feelings she had for him were the same she had for any of her brothers, which was a good thing really, as that would be really sick. He wanted a little sister, yes, but if he could choose one, it wouldn't be Ginny. The things she wrote about were not quite what he imagined he wanted his own little sister feeling at all, no matter to whom those words were for. Or at least, he wouldn't want to know if she was feeling those things, not at all. He wondered what Ron would think if he read Ginny's notebook.  
  
"Your really lucky, you know," he told Ron. "It's got to be wonderful to have a sister like that."  
  
Ron smiled. "You can't have her," he joked. "Take Percy though, or maybe the twins- both of them."  
  
There was a knock. The door opened and in popped Ginny's head. "Ron?" Harry's hand went instinctively to his pillow. Only, the pillow was at the top of the bed, and he was at the bottom. He fell and ended up sprawled on his side in a very odd manner- he thought of those old war movies Uncle Vernon watched, when the men would jump away from a grenade.  
  
"Harry," Ginny asked, laughter and concern in her voice. " Are you… are you alright?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry muttered, awkwardly trying to sit up. "Yeah I'm fine." He glared at Ron who was doubled over with laughter on his own bed.  
  
"OK," Ginny smiled as she stepped further into the room and leaned against the doorframe. She turned towards her brother. "You're remarkably calm." Ron eyed her suspiciously.  
  
"What do you know that I don't?"  
  
"Oh, nothing, really. I mean, you do know that Hermione's coming today, right?" Ron went pale.  
  
"Oh God," he said, his voice slightly higher than usual. "It's not the 26th is it?" He groaned when Ginny nodded. "That means she's coming at noon and it's already-" He glanced at his clock and jumped when he saw the time. "11:32?!" he cried, suddenly frantic. "Ginny, it's already 11:32! What am I going to do?"  
  
"Calm down," Ginny told him in a soothing voice. "That's why I'm here. I'm not going to let you make a fool of yourself, no matter how hard you try. Just calm down."  
  
He did seem to calm just a little, but still rushed to his closet. "What am I going to wear?" He held up a gray shirt. "How about this one?"  
  
Ginny shook her head. "She hates gray." She walked over to the closet and gently pushed Ron out of the way. "Let me deal with this."  
  
"Since when does she hate gray?" Ron said, pacing behind Ginny. "I never knew she hated gray. What if she finds out I didn't know? Why does she hate gray?" He was completely oblivious to Ginny's small smile and how she was shaking her head at him in a very compassionate manner. Harry noticed it, though, from where he sat, forgotten on the bed. He was amazed. He had never witnessed anything like that before. Yes, he decided, it must be great to have someone like Ginny. She saw Harry looking at her and tried to share a look of sympathy with him behind Ron's back. But, for some reason, he couldn't meet her eyes. She turned back to the closet and flipped through the shirts and trousers hanging there.  
  
Harry suddenly realized that he was supposed to be unaware of the situation between Ron and Hermione. "What are you all worked about anyway?" he asked Ron. "I mean, its just Hermione." Ron stopped pacing and looked at Harry, not sure what to say. "Unless you're not telling me something," Harry continued. Ron was throwing desperate glances at Ginny, who was pointedly ignoring what was going on behind her, though Harry could see she was smiling.  
  
"Well, umm…" Ron shoved his hands in he pockets and looked at the ground. Harry was about to ask again when he sucked in a large breath, looked up and met his eye, and very simply he said, "I told Hermione I liked her. She said she liked me back. I just wasn't sure how to tell you, mate. Sorry." All Harry's plans for teasing Ron were forgotten. He couldn't harass him after he heard the sincerity in his voice. Besides, the twins would probably do that for him.  
  
"That's great," Harry said, smiling. Ron let out a sigh of relief and smiled back, chuckling slightly.  
  
"Awww." They both looked back at Ginny, who was holding a white button up shirt and a pair of light kaki trousers in her hand. "That's so sweet," she said, grinning.  
  
"Oh shut up," Ron laughed, smiling down at her. Harry didn't think Ron would be able to stop smiling if he wanted to. He had felt that way before, after winning his first quidditch match or whenever he spent Christmas with his friends. That feeling that you're so happy, the only way you can let it out is to just smile till you can't smile anymore, no matter how ridiculous you may look.  
  
"Here," Ginny handed the clothes to Ron. "Wear this."  
  
He looked at them with skepticism. "Are you sure?" Ginny nodded. "OK, whatever. But if she doesn't like it, it's your fault." Ginny just smiled and left the room while Ron changed. Harry looked at a broomstick catalogue that had come the day before. The minutes ticked slowly away until there was another knock on the door.  
  
"Come on in," Ron called. Ginny opened the door and came in. This time, she was wearing a light green cardigan set and a matching flowing skirt with small white flowers on it. She certainly wasn't wearing that before, Harry was sure he would have noticed it the first time. She looked so different. She looked calm and peaceful and innocent and grown-up all at the same time. She seemed so very soft, the only cool think in the summer heat, even down to her delicate white sandals. How she managed it was beyond him, but she did. It seemed so odd to think that the girl before him was the one who had written those things he had read. She certainly had a more sides to her than he had ever imagined.  
  
"You look really nice Gin," he said, making her blush and causing Ron to do a double take at the two of them.  
  
"Thanks. The twins gave me this for my birthday last year."  
  
"It was better than the poster I got you," Ron said, feeling a need to make his presence known again.  
  
"She'll be here soon," Ginny said, referring to Hermione. "You look great Ron." Harry looked at Ron who looking so much older than he usually did dressed like that. With Ginny wearing a nice outfit too, Harry considered changing when he looked down at his old t-shirt and jeans. "Don't worry about a thing. I'll wait in the kitchen and listen for whenever she comes. I'll just come up and get you then, ok? You can make an entrance that way. Give you both a chance to gather yourselves."  
  
Ron nodded, then paused for a moment. "You really think she'll have to gather herself?" He smiled again. "Hmph. Who knew?"  
  
Harry was tempted to say, "We all did," but held his tongue. Ginny opened the door and turned around one last time. She sniffled and pretended to be misty-eyed. "My little boy is growing up," she said, sounding a lot like Mrs. Weasely. Ron rolled his eyes at her.  
  
"Get out, Gin," he said, giving her a little push out the door. She laughed and obliged. Ron watched her go and closed the door behind her, only to round on Harry. "You look nice?" he questioned. "What was that? That little thing there, what was that?"  
  
"It wasn't anything," Harry said. "She looked nice. I told her she looked nice. That' pretty much it."  
  
Ron looked at him, sizing him up. He's being insane, Harry thought. "That was all that was?" he asked. "You don't fancy Ginny?"  
  
Harry thought for a moment. Did he fancy Ginny? He couldn't tell. It felt as though he had just met her. "No," he decided. "I don't think I do."  
  
Ron seemed very relieved. "Just making sure. Sorry, but it's in the Older Brother handbook." Harry laughed. "You think I'm joking," Ron said. "But we have one. Charlie and Bill wrote it as soon as they found out Ginny was a girl. I'll show you it someday. But even if you did fancy her, I don't think I'd really mind. In fact, it'd probably make her happy, so I'd be ok with it, it's just that, it's so much easier if you don't. But you don't. So it's easier. Because you don't." He babbled as he watched the clock with apprehension. It was 12:01. "Shouldn't she be here by now? I mean it doesn't take but a second to get here. What if she doesn't want to come and backs out? What if-"  
  
There was a voice downstairs, and it was female, and not Ginny's. Ron froze. "She's here! She came! What if she doesn't like me and was just being nice in her letter? What if she's changed her mind?" He was a wreck. Harry wasn't sure what he could say that would make Ron calm down any. What had Ginny said?  
  
"Look, Ron she's probably just as nervous as you are," Harry reassured him. That sounded good.  
  
"Ron," Ginny called form outside the door. "She's here. Are you ok?" Ron walked over to the door and opened it. "You'll be fine. She really wants to see you. Come on." She ushered him down the stairs and Harry had little choice but to follow.  
  
When they entered the living room, Hermione was looking at some old pictures on the wall with her back to them. She laughed at one of the Fred and George as babies and Percy, only a few years older. He was trying to hold both of them on his lap and they kept pulling off his glasses and yanking his hair. Harry remembered that Hermione was an older child as well and wondered if she ever longed for siblings the way he did when watching the Weasleys. "Here they are," Ginny announced.  
  
"Hey Hermione," Harry said. She smiled at him and said hi, but soon turned all her attention to Ron.  
  
"Hi Hermione," he said. "You look beautiful." She blushed.  
  
"You look great, too," she faultered, not quite sure what to do for once. Ginny intervened.  
  
"So, I'm going to walk down to Liz's house. I guess I'll see you guys later." When she had gone Harry tried to think of an excuse to leave too, but found he didn't need one.  
  
"Harry," Ron said. "Do you mind if Hermione and I went on a walk? I, um, want to show her the new flowers Mum planted in the garden and I'm sure you'd think they were boring."  
  
"Go right ahead- I don't mind at all." They smiled and left, whispering to each other shyly. Harry grinned to himself. This was the perfect chance to give Ginny back her notebook. Percy and Mr. Weasley at work, Mrs. Weasley cooking, the twins doing Lord knows what, Lord knows where, Ron and Hermione on a walk, and most importantly, Ginny at a friend's house.  
  
Harry raced up the stairs, eager to just get this whole over with. He found the notebook right where he had left it under his pillow. It was simple, just find a place to leave it in her room and get the heck out of there. Easy enough.  
  
He soon stood outside Ginny's room; he and never been in it before and he wondered briefly what it looked like. As he opened the door, it creaked a little. He stepped inside and closed it behind him.  
  
The walls were light green (Harry was noticing a pattern), but you could barely see actual wall. Her room was covered in posters. That explained Ron's comment on giving her one for her last birthday. They were almost all black and white pictures of cities. There seemed to be a million of Paris, a lot of London, and even some of what looked like New York. They all seemed to have been given to her; each one had a little note written in the corner. "To Ginny, With Love, Charlie." Or, "Gin, remind me to take you here for your 18th birthday. That'll be my present. I know you'll love it- Bill." There were even a few paintings hanging on the walls he was sure she had done herself, judging by the set of art supplies laying on her small, white desk. However, the thing that caught his attention the most, was not on her walls.  
  
She had a piano. It was a very, small, old upright one, but it was still a piano. There were music books and sheet music scattered everywhere around her room, though it wasn't messy, and Harry stepped up to look at a large stack on her nightstand. "Songs from Frank Sinatra," was on the front with a picture of a man (obviously Sinatra) sitting at a piano with a cigarette in his mouth. He picked it up and turned it over, looking on the back, where there was a long list of the songs included. Some looked familiar, and he wasn't sure why, until he looked back down at the cover of the notebook he was still holding. That was it! Those phrases that he didn't understand before, they were song titles. It made sense now.  
  
She had a few classical music books, the basic Motzart and Bach, but she really seemed to like a lot of old, Muggle music. There was a book of Ella Fitzgerald music, some Louis Armstrong, and even one of some woman named Blossom Dearie, who he never heard of, but Ginny had made a lot of notes in that book.  
  
On her desk, Ginny had loads more notebooks. There was even a notebook with "Poetry" on the front. It took Harry a lot of force to keep from reading that one, but he managed not to. She had a bulliten board above her desk with pictures of her friends and family on it. Some were even of herself when she was younger. There was one of her when she must have been around 5, dressed in a little ballet outfit, holding her father's hand and twirling in a circle. So she could write, sing, act, play the piano, and dance. Was there nothing she couldn't do? It was a shame he had to learn these things about her from poking around her room and things. It felt like a very low thing to do, even though he wasn't sure if he could help it.  
  
Harry then remembered that he was there for an actual reason and decided to stash the notebook somewhere she would find, and get out of there. Where should he put it? The piano was too crowded, her desk was too obvious, as was her dresser, so he decided that the best place would be the nightstand, under the Frank Sinatra book.  
  
He quickly left it there and headed for the door, but stopped before he had reached it. It seemed a little wrong to just leave it there, so unceremoniously dumped in the first place he could find. That little book had opened up a whole new line of thought for him, one for which he was thankful. He walked back over and pulled it out, promising himself that this would be the last time he ever looked at it. He just wanted to read something one more time. He turned back to the first page he had ever read. The page Ginny had written just the other day.  
  
No sooner had he started reading it, than he heard the door creak. "Harry?" He spun around, completely surprised, almost dropping the notebook. Ginny was standing in the doorway, looking more than a little confused.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
I realized that I wasn't sure when this fic took place. Harry's at the Burrow for the summer, but I don't think something like this would happen in the summer after his 4th year. (Poor kid, an old notebook would be the last of his problems.) But I can't see this happening much later than that, so… It happens in fluffy world after GoF (the end of the summer) where no one suffers from the dark harrowing nightmares that are enevitable after they almost die… again. Just wanted to clear that up.  
  
Thanks to:  
  
Beccy, Hedwig, ShellyK, and j-belle 


	4. Make it one for my baby...

A/N: I have revised Ginny's rant because after all that hype about how great she was and how she could express herself well, she ends up coming off… just hideously. That was all my fault, I'm sorry. So I think this one's better. I'll get the next chapter out when I can, but I have some wonderful ideas for a D/G fic (2 D/G fics actually) that keep getting in the way. The fixed section is marked at the beginning and end by ******. Ok, kids, have fun!  
  
  
  
"Harry, what are you doing here?" Ginny asked, stepping into the room a little more. Harry looked around franticly, as if the walls would provide an answer or a way out.  
  
"I-I thought you were- were at…" The words were catching in Harry's throat, refusing to come out.  
  
"Liz wasn't home, so I just came back. Harry, why are you in my room?"  
  
He had to say something, even though the thought of bolting out the door and not stopping till he never had to see Ginny again seem very appealing. Say something, his brained screamed. Say something, anything- just stall!  
  
"I- I didn't know you had a piano." Harry cringed as soon as the words had left his mouth. She looked at him as though he were mad, but answered all the same.  
  
"Yeah, it, um… it was my great-aunt's." She waited for him to explain himself. When he didn't, she shook her head, looking very, very confused. "Harry, what are you doing in my room?"  
  
He tried to answer, anything that seemed plausible, but the only thing that came out of his mouth when he opened it were some odd strangled noises. And then Ginny caught sight of what he held in his hands.  
  
Her face went very pale, and then her cheeks turned dark red. She stood there for a moment, not saying anything, until she raised a shaking hand and pointed at the book. "Harry," she was trying very hard to keep her voice calm and steady. "Is that my notebook?" Harry managed a slight nod, his mouth going very dry. "Were you-" her voice cracked slightly, "Were you reading my notebook?" Again, Harry nodded. She walked over to where he stood, taking the notebook from his hands to see which page he had been reading. When she saw what it was, she turned and looked up at him.  
  
Her eyes were filled with embarrassment, and hurt, but there was something else there that Harry couldn't quite name. "You would do that? You read that?" she whispered, trying to keep a hold of her emotions. Disappointment- that was what else was in her eyes. He felt his face burn with shame; it felt like this was the worst thing he had ever done, and maybe it was. But before he could tell her how sorry he was, or how he thought he understood and she really didn't need to be embarrassed at all, he felt his face burning with something quite different than shame.  
  
CRACK!! His eyes closed and he recoiled slightly at the feel of her hand coming in contact with his cheek. He opened his eyes after the first wave of pain subsided slightly to see her seething in rage, her arm still out and over her chest from the hit. Ginny had slapped him! That certainly wasn't what he was expecting. That was anger in her eyes, not embarrassment. He wanted to groan out loud; how thick was he? Here she was, right in front of him, and he still couldn't tell what she was thinking or feeling.  
  
"Ginny, I'm-" he was cut of by her screaming.  
  
"Get OUT!"  
  
"Really, I-"  
  
"I said, GET OUT!" she cried. He might have been sorry beyond belief, but he wasn't suicidal. He left, very gladly.  
  
The door slammed behind him and he leaned against it. How could he have done this? It wasn't supposed to happen like this, he just want to know what she had been writing. And now, just when he had found out that she was pretty cool, and way deeper than the ever thought she was- probably way deeper than he was- he had done something to screw it all up. She hated him now- he would hate himself in her position. He groaned. He had thought she was embarrassed, couldn't even tell she was angry. She had every right to be angry, he decided quickly. It would have been wrong for her to be embarrassed.  
  
Suddenly there was an enormous crash from inside her room. It sounded as if she might have fallen down. Without thinking, only wanting to make sure she was alright, Harry opened the door and stuck his head in.  
  
"Ginny, are you ok?" he asked. He saw what made the noise. She had thrown a little vase he hadn't noticed before against the wall, flowers and all. The water tricked down a poster of Le Arc de Triumph and bits of stem clung to it. Ginny stood there, breathing very heavily, looking as though she had run a mile. Yet again, here was another side of her Harry never knew she had. Would it never end?  
  
"Gin I thought-" before he could finish, something was coming towards him. He ducked and the object whizzed right over his head. He turned around to see what it was she threw only to get hit in the back of the head. He let out a yelp of pain; what was she throwing?  
  
"Gin, what's going on?" Ron was pushing the door open all the way, Hermione behind him looking around at the few broken trinkets in the hallway. It figures that they'd show up now, Harry thought. It had to be this particular moment, didn't it?  
  
"ASK him what he did, Ron!" Ginny screamed, pointing at Harry. "Go on, ask you're BLOODY FRIEND what the hell he did!"  
  
Ron turned to look at Harry, his eyes wide with shock. Before Harry could say anything, Ron pulled him into the hallway, slamming Ginny's door, and dragged him by his t-shirt to his room. He roughly flung him down on one of the beds and began pacing in front of him. Hermione stood in the doorway and watched, obviously not wanting to get in the middle of this.  
  
"Now," Ron began, in a very loud voice. "I don't know what you did, but Ginny only ever throws things at me, so I have some sort of idea. And she only ever swears at the twins, so I have an even better idea. But I want to you say it; I want you to tell me exactly what you did. NOW!" At that moment, Harry couldn't imagine Ron's face ever being redder, no matter what Ginny had written about Hermione's owl or whatever the twins did, but he tried very hard to focus on the matter at hand and not on the color of Ron's face, or the fact that he would probably be dead after Ron found out what he had done.  
  
So, despite the impending death sentence, or, if he was lucky, just a brutal beating, he told Ron what had happened. He told him everything, the absolute truth- it was the least he could do after committing such a crime. Ron listen to the short story without interrupting, his footsteps getting harder and harder. When Harry had finished, Ron stopped pacing and stood there for a moment. Then, he ran out the door and barreled up the steps to the attic.  
  
"What's he doing?" Harry asked Hermione, who was still standing silently in the doorway.  
  
"I have no idea," she said, looking up at the ceiling. They could hear Ron above them, it sounded like he was moving things. She looked back down at Harry. "I can't believe you did that, Harry. That wasn't fair to go through her thoughts and things like that." She was disappointed with him, too. Harry decided he would give anything to suddenly disappear. Hermione sighed. "You are so incredibly lucky that I owe Ginny one. I'm going to go make sure she's alright." Harry put his head in his hands as Hermione left. What on Earth was he going to do?  
  
He wasn't left much time to wonder, however, because Ron was soon back, though covered in dust, and now he was holding something in his hands. It was an old book, magically bound and almost falling apart. Harry instantly knew what it was.  
  
"This, is the Older Brother Handbook," Ron said, comfirming Harry's fears. "It is the law of all things, well, older brother. There's a whole section for things like this, right under Ginny and the Bathroom rules."  
  
"You have rules about Ginny and the bathroom?" Harry asked incredulously. Ron answered, temporarily forgetting he was mad at he friend.  
  
"Jesus, none of us want to walk in on her!" he said, looking horrified at the idea. "It hasn't happened yet, and it's thanks to those rules. But the point is, according to this, you would never be allowed to visit here again, be stopped from any further communication with Ginny, and be somewhere around Malfoy on the people I like list." Harry was about to protest, but Ron held up his free hand. "Hold on a sec, let me finish. You are very, very lucky that you've saved my life multiple times and that Neville wouldn't make much of a best friend. For those reasons, and those reasons only, are you allowed to live. But you better do something bloody spectacular to fix all this."  
  
"That's just the problem!" Harry cried. "I don't know what I could possible do to make it up to her!" Ron was about to say something when Ginny stood in the doorway, holding her notebook and trying to push her hair out of her face.  
  
"Here!" she screamed as she threw the notebook at Harry. He caught it- it helped to be a Seeker- and managed to save an ear. Where had she developed such aim? "You're probably going to read it anyway!!" And she stormed out.  
  
Harry knew he should go after her, be the Prince to her Cinderella, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He didn't know what he would say, and he figured not saying anything at this point would be the wisest thing to do. Instead, he looked down at the notebook, not quite sure what to do with it. Flipping through it, he saw that there was a little more written there than there was previously. He began to read.  
  
******"I have never in my life been more upset," she wrote. This is not going to be good, Harry thought, but he bravely read on. "Harry, the boy I've idolized and loved and admired for years- years mind you- has managed to make me madder than I've ever felt in my entire life! God, how does he do that? It's never in the middle with that boy, is it? It's always an extreme emotion. Complete devotion or utter fury- never just, "Eh, it's Harry, I don't care." NEVER! Can't I just be normal and get over it? Nope, it's time for Ginny's Emotional Roller Coaster time!" Hmm, Harry didn't know she knew what a roller coaster was.  
  
"That makes me sound insane, but I'm not the one from the problem, he is! Who does he think he is, that he can just waltz in and read everything I've written about him? Well he can't! Oh God… how much did he read? Where on Earth did he find you anyway? I looked everywhere and- wait a second… What if he had you all day? I mean, he was acting really weird before and freaked out when I asked if anyone had seen you- he DID have you, didn't he?" Harry had really been hoping she wouldn't figure that out. "That- that wanker! Oh, I'm glad I threw those things at him now!  
  
"Just *who* does he think he his?! Everyone knows not to read anything I write; I even made them add it to the Older Brother Handbook," Harry was beginning to hate that book, "I was so sure Ron would have told Harry about it already. I seem to be the only one in the world who doesn't consider Harry another of my brothers. But next time I see him- I swear…  
  
"Who am I kidding? I'll never be able to look at him again without thinking 'I wonder what he thinks of me? Is he thinking about what I wrote? Does he pity me? Does he think I'm silly, or pathetic, or stupid even?' Oh, how am I ever going to live with that?"  
  
"But you know what? Someone once said (I'm not sure who) 'No one can make you feel inferior without your permission,' or something like that. So, I am not giving Harry, someone who's never given me the time of day, my permission. He will NOT make me feel anything bad, because there's no reason for me too. Everything I wrote, I felt. Everything he read, I meant. (And that includes everything here, because I've already decided to give this to him. I think I'll throw it, that'll make me feel better.)"  
  
Well, Harry thought, at least she's true to her word. He hoped it had made her feel better, because if it did, he suddenly didn't mind having things thrown at him.  
  
"I'm going to go give this to him and then I'm going to kick Hermione out of here. She's being really sweet, telling me she's sure Harry never meant to read this (pfft!) but I need to take everything out on the piano. I pity the keys; they shall soon be beaten to death. (Another thing, what the heck was that about the piano? That's the only thing he could think of? Idiot!)"  
  
Harry needed to do something to tell her that he never wanted to make her feel bad, he had only been a little curious about her. He wanted to tell her that he thought she was pretty extraordinary, and much more than he had ever thought she was. (He may not be in love with her, or be able to return all her feelings, but he did respect her, and now he admired her more than he ever had.)******  
  
The only problem was how to do it; sure it sounded ok in his head, but he doubted he could ever say what he really meant to her in person, that's saying, if she would ever give him the chance.  
  
"What happened?" Harry looked up to see Hermione entering the room.  
  
"She threw the thing at Harry," Ron said. "Not that I blame her." Hermione shook her head.  
  
"She kicked me out so she could play," she said. Sure enough, not a moment after she had said it, the air was filled with the opening notes of Moonlight Sonata. Ginny seemed to be putting all her anger in to keys, making them ring out her frustration.  
  
Ron left out a long, low whistle. "Boy is she mad. I can't remember the last time she played like that."  
  
"Why have I never heard her play?" Harry asked. Ron shrugged.  
  
"She plays all the time," he said. "She just always has mom put a silencing charm on her room when there are guests over, I guess she was too upset to bother now. Doesn't like to play for an audience much."  
  
"That's why I'm in here and not with her," Hermione added. Harry fell back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling.  
  
"I'm never going to be able to make it up to her," he groaned. "I mean it, she'll never talk to me again." He paused. "Not that she ever talked to me in the first place." He expected Ron to say something then, but his complaint was met with silence. "Guys?" Still silence. He propped himself up on his elbows, only to see that Ron and Hermione had left. Great, he thought. His eyes traveled the room and rested for a moment on the notebook as Ginny ended Moonlight Sonata by pushing her hands flat across the keys, creating an eerie, off key echo. Harry had done that before; his primary school had a nice music teacher one year who let him bang on the piano a little.  
  
She soon started a slow, sad tune, almost jazz. This time, her voice accompanied the piano.  
  
"It a quarter to three," she sang slowly. She did have a beautiful singing voice. It was lower than Harry expected it to be, but it was nice. "There's no one in the place, 'cept you and me. So set 'em up Joe," her voice raised a little, "I gotta story I think you outta know." The notes were getting calmer and calmer. "We're drinking my friend, to the end, of a brief episode. So make it one for my baby, and one more for the road." That was one of the songs she had written on her notebook, the one just left of Harry's side.  
  
A thought struck Harry then. That was it, of course! He would write everything he felt out. That way, she would be sure to understand; that way, he wouldn't make a fool of himself. He was sure she'd read it. There was no other way- that notebook got him into this mess, it was going to get him out of it. The only problem… what would he write?  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
*** Ginny's revised rant- The quote she gave was "Nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent," and it was from Eleanor Roosevelt, but I couldn't imagine Ginny knowing that, or at least remembering it. So, I feel so much better about that rant than the first. The first was pathetic- this one's infinitely better. I'm still working on Harry's response. Like Ron said, it has to be spectacular… or at the very lest make sense, which it isn't right now. I'll post it as soon as I get it right. Thanks for all the reviews. I'll name people next chapter.***  
  
This took forever to write, I'm not sure why. I spent the whole story dying to get to this point, and then I just stared at the screen forever, not sure what Ginny should write. Oh well, my reviewers (25? Wow!):  
  
Arien, IcantBELIEVEitsNOTbutter, erin, Princess or Mordor, Tiny Teddy, Beccy (I'm SO glad you got that! That was the whole point of this fic; these things don't just happen overnight! If Harry was harboring a crush on Ginny, wouldn't we know already?), Mystic-Maiden aka Miyako, Omlettes (I loved the clock poem!), Genesis, ShellyK (Thanks for the idea about the handbook, I hadn't even thought about it till you mentioned it. I threw that comment in last minute anyway.), and of course, Julie.  
  
I also have some poems on my name that I'm shamelessly plugging. (I have no reason to be ashamed, it's how I feel! Lol) If anybody wants to check them out, I'd really be grateful. Thanks! 


	5. The Importance of Being Ernest

Howdy boys and girls! Ok, here it is, a new chapter. I rewrote Ginny's speech in Ch. 4, so go check it out; there's even an extra author's note at the end. Everything's marked by ******s. Hope you enjoy; we're pretty close to the end now.  
  
  
  
  
  
Soon the notes of Ginny's song ended slowly- sorrowfully- and for a moment, there was silence. Harry fancied he could picture Ginny sitting at the old piano, her head resting on the back, over the keys. He almost thought he could here her sigh through the open windows. It was probably just his imagination, because the next moment, she started to play a happy, sweet tune.  
  
"They all laughed at Christopher Columbus, when he said the world was round. They all laughed when Edison recorded sound. They all laughed at Wilbur and his brother, when they said that man could fly. They told Marconi, wireless was a phony; it's the same old cry."  
  
Harry thought it very ironic that a witch was singing a song about Muggle inventions, but it was a pleasant song, so maybe she had calmed down a bit more.  
  
"They laughed at me wanting you, said I was reaching for the moon. But oh, you came through. Now they'll have to change their tune."  
  
That line prompted Harry to pick up his quill and get things over with. Just sitting there, thinking about what he wanted to write wasn't going to accomplish anything- he had to actually write it.  
  
"Ginny," he began. OK, he told himself, see there? That wasn't so hard, was it? Just keep going like that.  
  
"Yes, I did have your notebook all day. I never meant to make you upset, or angry, or hurt. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't express how sorry I am. But I think if I had the chance, I still wouldn't take back what I did. I suppose you're wishing you had another chance to throw something at me, and I'm sure you'll get one soon, but just here me out first." Ok Potter, he thought, this is it. Just write exactly how you feel, that's all you have to do. Huh, easier said than done.  
  
"I wish I could tell you that I noticed you all along, that your fears in the entry you wrote only a day or two ago were unfounded, but that would be a lie. The truth is, I didn't notice you. I should have, and I don't want you to think that I only ever saw you as 'Ron's Little Sister' because I did see you as Ginny, as your own person… it's just that I never gave that own person a second thought. I hope you know that I would never tell you this if I wasn't sorry for it, and ready to make up for it in any way I can.  
  
"That notebook made realize that I should have given you a second thought, heck, even a third and a fourth, and that I was wrong. I wouldn't take that back if I had the chance. Every time I see you, I won't be pitying you, or thinking you're silly, or pathetic, or stupid because you aren't, and never were. I'll be thinking, 'I wonder what she's feeling? How could I have missed her? I wonder if she'll ever forgive me for everything I've done, or didn't do? I hope she will.'  
  
"It sounds corny, I know, but you of all people should know how much my friends mean it me, and how much it means that I want you to be my friend. I'm sorry I can't say that I'm in love with you. I would if it were true, but I honestly don't even know one way or the other, because I feel as if I've only just met you. Hopefully, you'll let me get to know you better, because I can't imagine you learning anything about me you don't already know. So, what do you say? Give me an another chance?"  
  
Well, thought Harry, at least I mean every word of it, even if it doesn't sound so great. Was there anything else he needed to add? He pictured Ginny as she looked earlier in Ron's room, cool and joking, and how she looked when she was angry, eyes flashing and hair flying everywhere. Yes, there was something else.  
  
"One more thing, when you said you weren't beautiful, it wasn't true. You really are." How should he sign it? He decided on just his name.  
  
Reading it over, and then reading everything Ginny had written, he decided to write something at the very bottom.  
  
"P.S. Do you really think I'm a wanker?"  
  
Just when he had finished, Ron came in the room. "Dinner's almost ready," he said. Harry nodded.  
  
"How am I supposed to get this to her without loosing an eye?" he asked. Ron shrugged.  
  
"Run really, really fast?" he suggested. "I don't think she's that mad anymore. She played an upbeat song and hasn't played anything since, so I think the coast is clear. How're you going to apologize?"  
  
Harry pointed to the book. "I wrote it down," he said.  
  
"How'd it come out?" Ron asked.  
  
"I don't know. I was really just going for sincere. Do you think she'll forgive me?"  
  
"I'm sure she will," Ron assured him. "I mean, Hermione and I were mad at you, but we're not anymore. Come on now, there's food downstairs."  
  
As they passed Ginny's room, Harry slipped the notebook under her door. He could hear her inside, from the sound of things, cleaning the vase she had broken earlier. Please let this work, Harry prayed.  
  
Dinner went by slowly. Mrs. Weasley had made Shepard's Pie, but Harry didn't have much of an appetite. He picked at his food, trying to eat, after all he had missed lunch and hadn't much breakfast either, but he couldn't manage more than a few bites. He kept glancing at Ginny's empty seat next to Hermione.  
  
Halfway through the meal, however, Ginny came down, looking just as calm as she did before she had found Harry in her room. Harry froze, not sure what she would do, hoping that she would acknowledge him, and at the same time, hoping she wouldn't. She ended up meeting his eye and giving him a small, polite smile as she sat down. That was all he needed. Suddenly, his appetite came back and Harry began to really eat.  
  
"Ginny, dear, are you going to Diagon Alley with us tomorrow?" Mrs. Weasley asked. Harry had completely forgotten they still needed to get school supplies and things. "Good," she said when Ginny nodded. "I wasn't sure if you were going with your friends or not."  
  
"I'm supposed to meet Adriana and Rose and, I think, Collin there," Ginny explained. "Noon at Gringotts."  
  
"Well then, we'll leave at 11:30," Mrs. Weasley announced. "Give everyone a chance to get out money and what-not." Everyone nodded they're agreement; it was settled. "You're playing was beautiful this afternoon, Gin. I was surprised you didn't come and get me to put a silencing charm on your room."  
  
Ginny looked a bit uncomfortable and couldn't help but cast a quick glance at Harry, blushing all the while. He was looking at her too, waiting to see what she would say, if she said anything. Instead of falling apart though, she sat up straighter and smiled slightly.  
  
"Well, you know," she said. "When inspiration strikes…" She looked pleadingly at Ron and he changed the topic to (surprise of surprises) Quidditch.  
  
The meal didn't last much longer after that though. It was Ginny and Ron's turn to clean up afterwards, but Harry volunteered to help them. He desperately needed to see if Ginny was still mad at him, and while it probably wasn't wise to do this while she had a kitchen full of dishes to throw, he didn't care much. They worked for a few minutes in silence until Ron took a stack of dishes to the sink and left them in the other room, alone.  
  
"Did you get the notebook?" Harry asked, trying to look anywhere but right at her. He wasn't sure he wanted to see what her reaction was.  
  
"Umm… Yeah," she said. He chanced a look at her to see that she was busying herself with the table and trying not to look at him either. She stopped though and he quickly looked away. "I'm sorry for throwing those things at you." He looked back at her to see her a light shade of pink, but she held his gaze. He smiled.  
  
"Not as sorry as I am," he joked. She laughed a little. "I mean it, those things were really hard. What were they?"  
  
"My dad gave me these little trinkets. There's a little bird, and a horse, and dolphin or something I think." She paused for a moment to gather a few more glasses and Harry held the door open for her. "I never had the heart to tell him they were really ugly, so I've had to keep them."  
  
Ron turned around from the sink to look at them as they talked. He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "So," he interrupted. "This then," he gestured between the two of them and Harry tried not to laugh. "This is all cleared up?"  
  
"Yes, Ron," Ginny said as she dumped the glasses into the sink. "This," she mimicked his motion between herself and Harry, "is all cleared up. You needn't exile him just yet," she added laughing.  
  
"I wasn't going to *exile* him," Ron told her. "I was just going to scare him a bit. Maybe tip off Bill or Charlie on what he'd done."  
  
"Thanks, Ron," said Harry, rolling his eyes. "I'm standing right here." Ron smiled.  
  
"I know, just making sure you heard. You know-"  
  
"Older Brother Handbook?" Harry finished for him. He wondered just what it would take to burn that thing.  
  
"Hey," Ginny interjected. "Don't make fun of it. It's because of that thing that no one's ever walked in on me in the bathroom."  
  
"See," said Ron, pointing at her. "Someone around here appreciates the rules."  
  
"Hermione's rubbing off on you too much," Harry said in a warning tone. Ron just laughed.  
  
"Yeah, I know," he said "… and I don't think I really mind." Right on cue, Hermione walked in.  
  
"Nice way to leave me all alone," she said, frowning and walking to Ron's side. He planted a sweet, little kiss on her forehead.  
  
"I'm sorry," he cooed in her ear. Harry noticed Ginny choking on laughter, trying to hide it by biting her lip.  
  
"Is this what we'll have to watch all day tomorrow?" he asked her. She grinned.  
  
"You will, I won't. Remember, I'm meeting my friends and getting the heck away."  
  
Harry remembered now, but he wasn't as thrilled as Ginny. He looked back at Ron and Hermione, laughing quietly together, and back at Ginny, laughing quietly at them. The choice was obvious.  
  
"You can't leave me alone with them!" he cried, panicking at the very idea. "I mean, look at them! For a whole day? No, you have to come with us."  
  
"Oh no," she said, shaking her head and taking a step back. "I am not watching my brother and his girlfriend get all… all… couple-y like that."  
  
Harry was desperate. He could not, under any circumstances, be left alone with Ron and Hermione acting like *that* for a whole day. But when he thought about them even with Ginny there, he didn't think he liked that much either.  
  
"Hey Gin, do you think I could come with you?" She looked at him, surprised. It was obvious she wasn't expecting that.  
  
"I- um… yeah, I guess, if you really wanted to. Are you sure, though? I mean, you don't even know my friends."  
  
It was true, he hardly knew anyone in Ginny's year. Colin was the only one he could name off the top of his head. But, he decided, it had to be much better than the alternative, as the alternative had just slipped out the back door holding hands.  
  
"Yeah," he said. "I'm sure." She smiled, but seemed a little nervous.  
  
They said good night after that and she went up to her room, even though it was still early. But Harry didn't have to guess why she left. A few minutes later, he sat on the front steps (as far away from the back porch as he could manage) and listened contentedly to her play and sing through the open window.  
  
"Moon River," her voice carried. "Wider than a mile. I'm crossing you in style, some day. Oh you dream maker; you heartbreaker. Where ever you're going, I'm going your way… Two drifters- off to see the world. There's such a lot of world to see. We're after the same, rainbow's end… Waiting round the bend… My Huckleberry friend, Moon River- and me."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Wow. Ok, that took longer than I expected, but I think I needed to slow down posting anyway. So, there you have it, the lead in into the next chapter. There should be 2 more after this one. Also, my little sister read this story and asked about the Fred and George thing. "You couldn't come up with anything, could you?" (She's *9*.) I- I was trying for an air of mystery. Am I that obvious? If I must admit it… No, I couldn't come up with anything. Sorry folks, but I just am not much of a prankster I guess.  
  
And I just wanted to say that I didn't mean to make Ginny so 0-60 in under a second. She came off as just a little bi-polar, but I'll find a way to fix that. Calm!Ginny was actually not part of the story when I made it up, I was going to make her Fiesty!Ginny, but she just happened.  
  
Thanks:  
  
Circinius (I read your story Stranded a while ago and was so impressed that you reviewed mine. Wow! Glad you're enjoying this.), norafran31, Sparkle, kitty (Just like you? That's good, right? I think it is because I think Gnny's awesome.), Llynya, Arien, ShellyK, Princess of Mordor, Beccy (I've thought about writing the OBH, Julie suggested it, but I don't know if I could pull it off.), bucky, Jellybean Oasis, Rouge Angel (Did he get it right enough?), IcantBELIEVEitsNOTbutter, Hermy-own-ninny, Lame Duck (Thanks for the e-mail's Lor!) and Jules (Find the misspelled word! You know it has to be in there!)  
  
I have a total of 41 reviews. Hmm, not bad for a first fic, right?  
  
Did you know Serpent's Bride has like 350-some reviews? Woah. I have a new goal! Lol. 


	6. Everything That Rises Must Converge

Here it is! The next chapter. Aren't you excited? I'm so sorry it took so long. I just got busy and writer's block. So, hope this is good enough, I'm still not quite where I was in writing good-ness. I don't know what happened, it feels like I'm getting over a cold.  
  
  
  
  
  
The next day at noon, Harry was standing with Ginny, Ron, and Hermione on the steps of Gringotts. They rest of the family had left them, but Ron had insisted that he stay with Harry and Ginny until he was sure some of Ginny's friends were going to be there. He was not very pleased with the whole situation, but let it go because it was only Harry, after all, and he wasn't going to pass alone time with Hermione up.  
  
"Ginny!" Harry turned to see a girl with short, curly brown hair running up to them. Ginny saw her and waved, smiling broadly.  
  
"Ginny," she cried again when she had reached them. "Guess who I saw!"  
  
"I hope it was Adriana," Ginny said. "I haven't seen her at all."  
  
"Ok, so it was," the girl said, her excitement faltering for a moment. "But you'll never guess who was with her!"  
  
"I hope it was Colin," Ginny said. "I haven't seen him either." The girl stopped smiling and put her hands on her hips.  
  
"You really know how to take all the fun out of it, don't you? Well, they're going off by themselves today. Collin finally asked Dree out. It only took him a year."  
  
"I know!" Ginny agreed, rolling her eyes. "I was beginning to think he never would."  
  
Harry chose this moment to cough rather loudly. Ron and Hermione were talking in whispers again, unaware of the world outside them, and with Ginny and her friend ignoring everyone else, he suddenly felt stranded.  
  
"Oh!" Ginny turned around to look at him apologetically. "Sorry. Harry, this is Rose. Rose, Harry."  
  
"Nice to meet you," Rose said, taking the briefest glance at his scar. He smiled and nodded, a little wary of what he had gotten himself into.  
  
"He's coming with us today, is that ok?" Ginny asked her.  
  
"Sure!" she answered, smiling. "But I'm warning you now, we're still going in the Order."  
  
"Order?" Harry asked. He was beginning to realize that these girls had a language all their own and Ginny might have to play interpreter for the day.  
  
"We shop in a certain order," Ginny explained. "We've always gone to the same stores in the same order. It's become an unwritten rule over the years." Rose nodded.  
  
"And that means Flourish first," she declared.  
  
"Ok," Harry said. "I can deal with that."  
  
Soon, they had all their books, and new robes, and were sitting at Flortescue's, eating ice cream on the sunny patio, chatting pleasantly. After the first 15 minutes or so, Harry had begun to relax and really have a good time. It was different hanging out with girls. He had practically no contact with them, save Hermione, but they weren't all that bad. Every once in a while they would go into giggle fits that Harry couldn't understand, but once they got past that, they were ok. In fact, Ginny was more than ok; she was wonderful. He had never really seen her like this, laughing and having fun with a friend. She was never so outgoing around him usually. It was nice.  
  
All of a sudden it wasn't so nice. Ginny, who had been in the middle of telling a story, stopped and glared at someone standing behind Harry. He looked over his shoulder and groaned when he saw Malfoy (alone, rather than with Crabbe or Goyle), sneering, but he wasn't looking at Harry at all, he was focusing on Rose.  
  
"You're hanging out with *them*, MacKay?" he asked in a disgusted tone. "What would your mother say?"  
  
"I doubt it'd be what you'd think," Rose said heatedly, "considering she hates you and loves Ginny."  
  
"Well there's no accounting for taste, is there?"  
  
"No," she said, looking him up and down once. "I supposed there isn't. I mean, look at you and the way you behave. You're a complete disgrace."  
  
"I knew there was a reason I hated you," he said with the malice he usually reserved for Harry alone.  
  
"Then leave," she said as if talking to a small child and making a motion away from their table.  
  
"Make me."  
  
"Malfoy, do you try to make yourself sound as much like a three year old as possible, or does it just happen?" Ginny asked, more exasperated than anything. Harry laughed and Ginny leaned over to him and whispered, "Now watch. He's going to make a comment on me being poor."  
  
"Oh, Potty's little girlfriend? That's sweet, that really is." Ginny slapped her hand on the table in mock frustration.  
  
"That was my second guess," she cried. She might have been joking about it, but Harry was starting to get mad.  
  
"Look, Malfoy," he said, rising to look him in the eye. "We're 15. Having a girlfriend stopped being a bad thing a long time ago. Just because *you* don't like girls, doesn't mean the rest of us don't. Now get out."  
  
"Or what," Malfoy challenged.  
  
"Or I'll tell Aunt Narcissa it was you who let the snakes into the chapel at Cecilia's wedding last month," Rose told him. With one more scowl, he left.  
  
"That was brilliant," Rose said to Harry in awe.  
  
"It was an excellent bluff, Harry," Ginny agreed. Harry didn't want to admit that he hadn't meant it as a bluff, that he for a moment had forgotten Ginny wasn't his girlfriend. 'She's not,' he told himself firmly.  
  
"Aunt Narcissa?" he asked, sitting down again.  
  
"We- I-… My older sister's husband is Malfoy's mother's third cousin," Rose said, looking mortified.  
  
"It's ok," Ginny said sympathetically, patting Rose on the arm. "We know it's not your fault. We don't hold it against you."  
  
"Thanks," Rose said gratefully. "Speaking of family, how's Charlie?"  
  
Ginny's gazed narrowed and she looked at Rose suspiciously. "Why do you ask?"  
  
"Well, you know…" Rose was looking suddenly uncomfortable. "I just was wondering… he's-"  
  
"He's almost 13 years older than you and my brother!" Ginny cried. "I knew I should have never introduced you! I knew, but I did it anyway because you really wanted to meet him. I should have known you didn't care a thing about dragons really. You only wanted to meet him because you heard he was cute."  
  
"Hey!" Rose said indignantly. "You can't sit here and tell me that you never liked any of his cute friends, can you? I mean, Jack was gorgeous and you know it."  
  
"Yes, but Jack was not my best friend's brother, was he? Come, Rose, not Charlie. You're sure you don't like Percy or something?"  
  
"Oh look!" Rose said, standing quickly. "I think I see Adriana and Collin over by Madam Malkin's. Why don't I just join them?" She made to leave but Ginny grabbed her sleeve.  
  
"Charlie?" she asked in a helpless tone. Rose nodded, turning slightly pink. Ginny sighed letting go of her.  
  
"You're not mad, are you?" Rose questioned, cautiously.  
  
"No," Ginny said after a moment. "It's ok. It's not like this is the first time something like this has happened."  
  
"Alright. See you on the Express then, Gin. Bye Harry, nice meeting you."  
  
"See ya," Harry watching her leave. "What was that all about?" he asked, turning back to Ginny.  
  
She rested her head in her arms on the table and was silent for a long moment.  
  
"Have you ever wondered why I never have my friends over?" she asked finally.  
  
Harry shrugged. "I never really noticed."  
  
"When you have 6 older brothers like I've got, all your friends have crushes on them," Ginny explained. "When I was 8, 8 mind you, my best friend had a crush on Bill. Two years ago Adriana liked Ron. (Don't ever tell him that though.) I've had a couple of friends who've liked the twins. This one girl, Grace, even liked Percy for a while. And now Rose likes Charlie. It's just awful; I refuse to bring home friends anymore."  
  
"Oh," Harry said. He was trying not to ask the question he wanted to ask the most, but he finally gave up. "So, um… who's Jack?" he asked in what he hoped was a casual tone.  
  
Ginny smiled and blushed a little. "He's nobody. Really."  
  
"Nobody?" Harry repeated.  
  
"Nobody." She looked at her watch. "We better getting going; we only have a half hour now. Is there anywhere we missed?"  
  
"We haven't been to the Quidditch shop," he pointed out.  
  
"I was hoping you wouldn't notice. Ok, tell you what. I want to stop by Jean's anyway-"  
  
"Jean's?" Harry interrupted.  
  
"You know, the store. Well, I supposed you wouldn't know; it's a huge girl's store- make-up, jewelry, clothes, that sort of thing. It's right across the way from the Quidditch place, so how about we split up. It should only take about 15 minutes, right?"  
  
"Sounds good," Harry said, standing and grabbing his bags. Ginny did the same and they left together, walking the short distance to the two stores. "We'll meet here?" he asked before they parted. She nodded and went into Jean's as Harry went into the store across from it.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Harry was standing at the designated spot, with a new strategy book, but Ginny was not. 'She's probably still in there,' Harry thought, and went in to retrieve her.  
  
The first thing he noticed was that everything was shimmery, fluffy, or sparkely. Ginny wasn't kidding when she said it was girly; it was no wonder Harry had never been in here before. The second thing he noticed was that Jean's was larger that he expected, obviously the work of a spell. He couldn't see Ginny anywhere.  
  
"Can I help you?" the small, blonde woman at the counter asked Harry, noticing the lost look on his face.  
  
He walked towards her. "Have you seen a girl with red-" He stopped in mid- sentence, something in the glass counter catching his eye. It was a necklace- sliver on a thin chain but on it was a locket, in the shape of a notebook. It shined in the light and Harry immediately thought of how much Ginny would like it.  
  
"How much is that?" he asked the woman, pointing to the locket.  
  
"8 galleons," she answered.  
  
"I'll take it." Without a second thought, he handed her the money and had it wrapped in a small white box with a red ribbon. He was about to walk away when he remembered why he had come in in the first place. "Have you seen a girl come in with red hair in a ponytail?" The woman smiled.  
  
"That one?" she asked, pointing to Ginny walking out the store.  
  
"Yeah, thanks!" Harry went to chase her. "Ginny," he called. She stopped.  
  
"Hey, how long have you been in there?" she asked.  
  
"Not long. Here." He handed her the box. "I got this for you." Her eyes grew wide and when she didn't say anything or move to take it, he began to think it might not have been such a good decision after all.  
  
"You… bought me something?" she finally asked, still not moving.  
  
"I just thought you might like it," he said, feeling incredibly stupid, but still holding the box out to her. She finally reached up, very uncertainly, and took it from him. Gently, as though it were glass, she lifted the lid and gasped when she saw what was inside.  
  
"Harry, I can't except this," she said.  
  
"Why not? I really want you to have it."  
  
"I- just can't." She handed it back to him, shaking her head. "I just can't," she repeated. "We better go, everyone's waiting at the Leaky Cauldron." Harry nodded, to confused to press the matter of the necklace anymore.  
  
The rest of the day, which wasn't very long, Ginny and Harry were both distant and quiet. Ron and Hermione seemed to notice this and when everyone came home, dragged Harry into Ron's room, very much like they had the day before, only this time, nowhere near as angry.  
  
"What happened?" Hermione asked, gently.  
  
"What makes you think something happened?" Harry countered, avoiding her eyes.  
  
"Oh come on," Ron said. "You're not fooling anyone. What happened?"  
  
Harry sighed and pulled the box containing the necklace out of his pocket, tossing it on the bed.  
  
"I tried to give this to her," he told them. Hermione reach over and picked up the box opening it.  
  
"Wow," she breathed, showing the necklace to Ron, who was remaining silent, with some restraint. "So what's the problem?"  
  
"She wouldn't take it," he said, miserably. "She wouldn't even tell me why, just refused to accept it. I just thought she'd like it. I guess she didn't."  
  
Hermione was watching him and frowning. Ron was looking out the window, trying to keep his face placid and not doing very well.  
  
"What?" Harry asked, throwing his hands in the air. "I give up. What is it I'm missing, huh? What do you guys know, that I don't? Because there's obviously something that I'm not getting!"  
  
Hermione and Ron looked at each other and it seemed that they were communicating without speaking.  
  
"Harry," Hermione started softly. "I'm not sure if I should be telling you this but… To Ginny, it's not just locket. You giving her something so personal like that means that you *like* like her, and I think the problem is… She's been waiting a long time for you to notice her and like her back. To her, that necklace is really important. It means you return her feelings. She doesn't think it means the same to you as it does to her, and if it doesn't, then she doesn't want it. Understand?"  
  
Harry sat there for a minute, not saying anything, and then rose, grabbing the box. He walked towards the door, and paused.  
  
"Why doesn't anyone ever tell me these things?" he asked over his shoulder before he left. He jogged down the stairs and walked straight to Ginny's door, which was closed.  
  
"Ginny?" he called, knocking. She answered, obviously surprised.  
  
"Hi Harry."  
  
"Can I come in," he asked.  
  
"Yeah," she said. "Sure." She moved away from the door and let him in, leaning against her desk. "So…"  
  
He held out the box again and she blanched slightly at the sight of it.  
  
"Harry-"  
  
"I bought this for you," he said. "I want you to have it."  
  
"Harry, you don't understand-"  
  
"I understand," he interrupted, looking her in the eye with fierce determination. "I understand exactly what this means. And I still want you to have it."  
  
She looked at the box again and took in a shaky breath. "Are you sure?" she asked quietly. He nodded again, but she still made no move to take the box, just as she hadn't before. Harry finally opened it and took the necklace out. He took a step towards her, holding it out in an offer to put it on for her. She turned and pulled her long hair over her shoulder and out of the way. He draped it around her neck and closed the clasp, after as little fumbling as possible, (How did girls close these things? They're tiny and awkward!) She turned to face him, looking him in the eye. And then he kissed her, because it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.  
  
He wasn't sure what made him do it, but once he had, he decided that it really was a shame he hadn't noticed her before, because he had never felt anything as incredible as this; it even rivaled flying. She didn't respond at first but when she did he felt like he was on fire. The way she moved her mouth under his was just right; it matched his movement perfectly.  
  
Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew that this wasn't just kissing (not that he had any experience before), but that it was Ginny. He realized that Ginny was the one he was kissing, it was Ginny's cheek he was holding, it was Ginny's waist he had his other arm wrapped around, it was Ginny that was doing this to him. He may not have realized it at that moment, but it went deeper than just teenage hormones.  
  
He turned his head slightly to get a better angle, but his glasses got in the way, and Ginny let a sharp cry, pulling away. She put a finger to just below her temple and looked as if she wasn't sure to laugh or cry.  
  
"You're glasses," she explained, pulling her finger away to reveal the small scrape they had made.  
  
"I'm really sorry," Harry said, never hating his glasses more. She smiled and they were both silent for a moment, neither one sure of what to do next.  
  
"That was my first kiss," she said quietly, finally breaking the silence.  
  
"Mine too," he confided. It hadn't felt like a first kiss; it felt as if they had done it a million times before, it was just so… natural.  
  
"You better go, Ron'll be wondering what happened to you."  
  
Harry was about to say 'You happened to me,' and insist on staying, but he obeyed; he had some things to sort out. With one last kiss on the scrap he had inflicted, he left.  
  
Halfway down the hall, though, he stopped, walked quickly back to her door and knocked. She opened it, about to say something, but he held her chin and covered his mouth with hers, this time remembering to take his glasses first. This kiss was just as electric as the first one, and now he was sure. He did like Ginny. He just needed proof. When he pulled away, she was smiling, though a little confused.  
  
"Goodnight," he said, not sure of what else he could say.  
  
"Goodnight," she said, closing the door softly. He stood in the hallway, waiting for the sound of the piano he was sure to follow, but it never came. Instead, he heard some shuffling, and then the distinct sound of a quill scratching.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
We got an epilogue coming after this, but I think I might take a while in getting it up. Just to tick you off! Nope, 'cause I'm busy. But we will see how they grow up and everything. Promise.  
  
  
  
This fic has made me realize that there are a few things I will try to never do again:  
  
1) Make a character a "wonderful writer" because everything they write must reflect the extent of my talent, and then I go back and think, man, that isn't all that great.  
  
2) Promise a chapter I haven't planned out completely. This chapter was weak. Sorry, it was. I seem to have a problem writing three people talking to each other at the same time. Hence the skippage of the shopping day.  
  
3) Write a story that is rushed. If it can't hold out long enough to take it's sweet time, then it shouldn't be written. (It sucks that there aren't any pre-made relationships in canon. Would make everything so much easier.)  
  
4) Include long author's notes in a poor attempt to explain myself and be witty in the process.  
  
  
  
Thanks:  
  
Amanda (Hope you got the e-mail I sent you.), HarryandGinny4eva (Thanks for the review! You're #55!), Cariad, SNOWGRL, kitty (Ugh, brothers'll do that, won't they?), caramelgirl, Llynya, lil azn mystical girl, circinius (If you notice, he doesn't say he loves here in the chapter at all. I tried to make them friends first, but I don't think this fic could hold out long enough to explore the long friendship they should share first. I sped it along… maybe that wasn't so wise after all…), Ara, RogueAngel, ShellyK, Sirius B, Beccy (Yeah, I'm convince that any man like Harry in this story is pure imagination. Pfft, Let me know if you find out otherwise.), LaMe DuCk and Julie (who is on the other computer in the same room right now.) 


	7. La Vie En Rose (The Epilogue)

I bet you people thought that I would never update this. That I promised an epilogue but would never deliver one. Ha! I wish I had made a bet with you! But it did take me forever, so I'm very, very sorry to anyone who waited for this. I've been busy and working on another story (which isn't going so well) and fighting the urge to start about 6 more stories (which isn't going very well either) so this has been delayed. It also didn't help that there were about 4 different versions of this epilogue, and I wasn't sure which one to do. The truth of the matter is that it never needed an epilogue, but I had to throw in some sickeningly sweet romance. I apologize.  
  
  
  
When they thought no one was looking Harry and Ginny stepped out of the Great Hall, on to the veranda. The noise of the people inside carried through the cool, spring air, mixing with the sounds of the crickets, the fairies, the occasional splash of the squid in the lake.  
  
"I don't think any of this is real," Ginny said, looking out over the railing with her back toward him. Harry moved to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She leaned into him and he smiled.  
  
"What's not real?" he asked.  
  
"The last few years, really," she said quietly. "But mostly tonight." She shifted in his arms to look up at him. "Tell me," she continued, "did I really just graduate from Hogwarts?"  
  
"Yes," he told her, lifting one hand to stroke her hair. It looked gorgeous in the setting sunlight like this.  
  
"Did I really just speak up there at the ceremony as Head Girl?" she asked, seeking confirmation that she wasn't dreaming.  
  
"Mm-hmm," Harry murmured.  
  
"And I was really a published author before I was 17?" Harry nodded.  
  
"But most importantly, you were captain of the Quidditch team last year," he reminded her. She grinned.  
  
"Of course." She paused, smiling to herself. "Do I rule or what?" she said, jokingly.  
  
"Oh, you definitely rule," he said, reaching down to give her a soft kiss. When he pulled away, she turned so she was facing him and rested her head on his shoulder, thinking for a moment.  
  
"It still doesn't seem real," she said finally.  
  
"I know what you mean," Harry told her. She looked up at him.  
  
"Aren't you supposed to be giving me some sort of advice?" she questioned. "Everyone but you has given me their words of wisdom so far." Harry sighed.  
  
"You get used to it," he said.  
  
"Used to advice?"  
  
"No. Used to the real world," he clarified. "I don't know, you just… get used to it. It's no different than starting school for the first time, really. Or learning to fly."  
  
Ginny smiled at him. "You wise, old sage," she teased, moving her arms to around his neck. He responded by sliding his own arms to around her waist. They stood there for a moment, not saying anything, just looking at each other.  
  
Harry knew he must have looked foolish, standing there just looking down at her, but he didn't care. He was thinking about everything he and Ginny had been through, each moment they shared, their first fight, their first date, their first kiss.  
  
"Harry," she interrupted suddenly. "Can I ask you something?"  
  
"Sure," he answered, not sure if he should be nervous or not.  
  
"Well," she paused for a moment, thinking. "You remember our first kiss?" He smiled. So she was thinking about the same things he was.  
  
"It would be a little hard to forget." He could still recall every thought he had had and every emotion that had passed through him.  
  
"And you gave me the necklace?" She fingered the locket she was wearing, the same he had given her that day they had gone to Diagon Alley together. He nodded, still smiling fondly at the memory. 'Why… why did it take you almost a year to actually ask me out after that?" She was frowning now, and Harry suddenly realized she had just asked a question that she had been saving for quiet some time.  
  
"Because," he said, in all seriousness, "then, I still wasn't sure how I felt about you, even though I had a pretty good idea. And I was terrified I'd do something wrong and screw everything up." She smiled a little. "I mean, I still felt like a kid; I didn't know what the heck I was feeling." Her smile grew slightly. "Do you know," he said, in a confiding voice, "I've been trying to find the perfect way to make it up to you all this time." She grinned.  
  
"You're very good at making things up," she said.  
  
"Well, I had to do something extra special, something better than ever," he explained.  
  
"It will be hard for you to top that valentine you gave me last year." He rolled his eyes.  
  
"It wasn't supposed to explode," he said, off topic. "I told you I was sorry about it."  
  
"It's ok," Ginny assured him. "No one died. Well," she teased, "you almost did, of embarrassment, but you're fine now." He felt his cheeks burn and she reached up to touch them, laughing. "It's ok, really. I'm only teasing. I think it was sweet." Harry laughed.  
  
"Well, still, I have something for you," he said, "but you have to walk down to Hogsmeade with me." He began to lead her down the steps and onto the walkway, still not detaching his hands from her shoulders, but she stopped.  
  
"What about everyone?" she asked, craning her neck around to see inside the Great Hall.  
  
"It's taken care off. Come on." Harry pulled her away before she could catch a glimpse of all her brothers, standing in a circle, talking grimly. Harry had told them what he was planning last week, and had spent an hour and a half trying to convince them to let him. If it hadn't been for Ron, Charlie probably would have hauled him back to Romania and left him in a cave with a dragon, and now way out.  
  
They walked down the path to the village, the moonlight bathing the way before them. As they neared the edge of the wards around the castle, Harry let go of Ginny and swallowed hard. She looked up at him curiously, but they continued on in silence.  
  
The edge of the Hogwarts grounds was always noticeable, in looks and in feeling. You just knew when you had come to the end of the magical field, and as Harry took his next step, he just knew. He stopped a few paces away and Ginny followed suit, biting her lip to try to keep from smiling. Harry couldn't smile, his stomach suddenly felt like lead. This was it.  
  
He checked his watch- 30 seconds left. Carefully he pulled something out of his pocket, making sure Ginny couldn't see it.  
  
"Close your eyes," he said, and she did so. He placed the object in her hand and made sure they were both touching it, clutching both the object and her hand tightly. "Hold on tight," he whispered. He leaned down to kiss her, his free hand clutching her waist tightly, pulling her to him, and counted down in his head.  
  
5…4…3…2…1…0  
  
He clutched Ginny tighter and felt her go ridged against him as they were pulled by portkey away from Hogsmeade. It was only the 3rd time in his life he had ever traveled this way, since he hated it and had some very bad memories because of the devices, but he felt this time it was necessary and was willing to do it, if it would make everything perfect.  
  
When the world finally stopped spinning and they landed with a jolt, Ginny pulled her face away and stared at him with big eyes.  
  
"That's some kiss," she finally said, starting to smile. "Think you could do it again?" Harry laughed nervously.  
  
They were standing in the middle of towering bushes, almost completely hidden from view.  
  
"What's this all about?" Ginny asked. Harry swallowed and led her through a small hole in the foliage to a huge, concrete staircase. They were one on of several landings, and at each one was an old-fashioned lamppost. At the bottom, there were old houses and shops; at the top was a busy street. There was no one around, thankfully; it was just them and the glow of the dimly lit lamp. It seemed to overwhelm Ginny for a moment. He waited for her to say something.  
  
"We're in Paris," he said finally. She stopped examining their surroundings and looked up at him, in shock for just a second, until she began to grin.  
  
"You-" he interrupted her.  
  
"There's more."  
  
Very slowly, he brought the object that had worked as a portkey up and showed it to her, watching her eyes go wide as she realized what it was. It was a small, black, velvet box. He opened it to reveal a delicate silver ring with a diamond in the middle. Simple, elegant, beautiful- he thought it reflected Ginny perfectly.  
  
"Harry…" Ginny trailed off, her eyes finally tearing away from the ring to look up at him and he saw they were confused and a little scared. "Is this…?"  
  
"I don't mean now," he said. "I know you want to wait. But it's just me saying that someday… I want you to be my wife." He almost cringed as he said the last part, thinking it came out sounding wrong, and was about to tell her he meant something closer to he wanted to be her husband, when she cut him off by throwing her arms around her neck.  
  
"If you don't mean this," she said, her voice muffled against his neck, "tell me now, because as soon as I say yes, I'm taking you for life." Harry felt her tears form against his skin and held her closer, if that was possible.  
  
"You know I mean it." He bent down a little more and kissed her, sealing his words. When he pulled away she smiled at him, her eyes bright and shining. "Marry me?"  
  
"Yes," she whispered. Harry grinned, trying not to look too relieved- part of him had been certain she would say no- but finally letting his joy override every other feeling. He finally remembered the ring, the one he had been looking for the better part of a year, and slipped it on her finger, admiring how beautiful it looked. It looked like it belonged there.  
  
"It will be in a couple of years," he said again, "but- I just wanted to ask you now." She hugged him again, and rested her head on his shoulder.  
  
"You took me all the way to Paris just to propose?"  
  
"No," he said. "There's more. I have reservations at a restaurant- Le Bristrot de Paris. I figured after that we could just walk around for a while. The box is the portkey back too; we have until 12:30."  
  
"How did you get everything so perfect?" Ginny asked in an amazed tone. She reached out the hand with the ring and ran her fingers over the wet branches. The water droplets flew up and got all over her hand, but she didn't seem to care. Harry couldn't help but beam at how lovely her pale hand looked with the ring on it in such contrast with the dark leaves. She took in a deep breath. "It even smells perfect, and it's just after a rain. How did you do it?"  
  
Harry grinned. "I have my ways," he said mysteriously. Ginny rolled her eyes. "Ok, I've been checking the weather reports with a friend from the Ministry. It's the first time it's stopped raining almost all week." He looked at his watch and realized they didn't have much time before their reservations.  
  
"We should hurry," he said, releasing Ginny waist and offering her his arm instead. They walked up the stairs to the street, which was crowed with cars and brightly lit, and went along the sidewalk, which soon became a bridge. It was only half a block to the restaurant, but Ginny stopped suddenly in front of an old music store.  
  
"Do you hear that?" Ginny asked, listening to the music from inside. Harry nodded. "That's La Vie Rose." She sang softly.  
  
"Quand il me prend dans ses bras  
  
Il me parle tout bas  
  
Je vois la vie en rose."  
  
Harry forgot about the reservations, forgot about the bustling city around them, and only focused on her singing. He gently wrapped an arm around her and took her hand in another and began to dance with her, right there in the sidewalk. She kept singing as she laid her head on his chest.  
  
"Il me dit des mots d'amour  
  
Des mots de tous les jours  
  
Et ça m'fait quelque chose  
  
Il est entré dans mon Coeur."  
  
The music ended and she stopped singing, but another song came on, this time one she didn't seem to recognize. They continued dancing, ignoring the knowing looks they were getting from passersby.  
  
"It's never in the middle with you, is it Harry?" Ginny finally asked quietly.  
  
"No," Harry answered. "Do you mind?"  
  
"No," Ginny said. "Harry?"  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"I love you."  
  
"I love you, too."  
  
The music was off now, no more songs coming from the closing shop, but they stayed there still, for a very long time.  
  
Hold me close and hold me fast.  
  
The magic spell you cast,  
  
This is la vie en rose.  
  
When you kiss me, Heaven sighs.  
  
And though I close my eyes,  
  
I see la vie en rose.  
  
When you press me to your heart,  
  
I'm in a world apart,  
  
A world where roses bloom.  
  
And when you speak  
  
Angels sing from above.  
  
Every day words,  
  
Seem to turn into love songs.  
  
Give your heart and soul to me,  
  
And life will always be,  
  
La vie en rose."  
  
  
  
  
  
OK, I am sorry about that, but at least it's there. If you complain about it or are not satisfied, let me know and I'll consider re-writing it with your suggestions.  
  
I tried to use some coding, but it wouldn't work. Meh.  
  
Also, if anyone is waiting for the next chapter in Fior Ifreann, it might be a while. I do have it all planned out, but its taking forever and life is getting in the way. As soon as I get it done, it will be up.  
  
I have 74 reviews. Wow. Just… wow. You people rock. And you people being:  
  
Amanda, Sony Lewison, ShellyK, Safire, Cactuskitty, HarryandGinny4eva, Cygnus Crux (if you that one was weak, man, how bad was this one? Sorry), FuNnIe GiRaFfE, TheMonkeyStoleMyDadsVisaCard, CrazyCutee831, Princess Sam (thank you, a lot.), snowgrl, bucky (twice, I'm sorry it took so long. Thanks for sticking with it.), and irishspring  
  
If you are interested in anything else by me, you can check my profile. Thank you everyone who read this. 


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